by Sofia Tate
“New York-Presbyterian Hospital on York Avenue,” I order the cab driver, just as Mrs. Berkeley told me.
He nods and begins driving north. I watch the traffic lights, willing each one to turn green as we make our way up the wide street. I grab the edge of the plastic seat cushion under me with my fists, frustration and impatience coursing through me.
Finally, I see signs for the hospital as the taxi comes to a sharp stop in front of the imposing limestone building. I pay the driver and get out, coming face to face with Luciana as she grabs the handle of the door.
Her beautiful blue eyes open widely at the sight of me, mirroring my exact reaction upon seeing her. We both freeze in place.
“Tomas? What are you doing here?”
“Mrs. Berkeley told me you were here with Allegra. Is she all right?”
A rough voice yells from the driver’s seat. “Hey, you two coming or going?”
Luciana pushes me back into the car. “Come on. I need to go back to the house to get my stuff. I’ll explain on the way.”
I do as I’m told, because the frightened look in her eyes unnerves me, and all I want to do now is comfort her.
“Back to Sutton Square, please. The end of East Fifty-eighth Street,” she tells the driver.
The cabbie turns left and begins his way back southbound to the house. Luciana leans back on the seat and lets out a deep breath.
I take her hand in mine and gently press it. “What happened to Allegra?”
“As far as I could tell, Allegra was trying to leave and Davison wouldn’t let her, she tried to pull away from him, and then fell down the stairs.”
A disturbing thought grips me. “He didn’t push her, did he?”
Luciana shakes her head furiously. “No, no. I’m not crazy about the guy, but I know he’d never do something like that to her. He picked her up and carried her to his car. I had just enough time to get my purse and go with them. I called her father and he met us there. Davison wanted to talk to her, but Mr. Orsini and I chased him away because she needed the rest and because she asked him to leave.”
I move in closer to Luciana, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She settles herself into my body, her soft curves pressing into me, and I hold her even tighter, reveling in the feel of her against me, something I’ve wanted again desperately ever since she first bumped into me. And then I realize I’ve wanted this warmth ever since I left the Czech Republic. I left behind so much sadness, grief, and pure hopelessness. Being around Luciana reminds me what I want, what I miss in my life. This closeness, this warmth with another human being. And I want all of it with her.
I swallow the lump in my throat before I continue. “Luciana, who was in those videos?”
She sighs audibly before replying. “Allegra. When she was five, her mother was murdered in front of her. She ran away and hid until the police found her two days later. That picture of her in the cop’s arms…that was right after they found her.”
I shut my eyes at the thought of Allegra having to go through something as horrible as that. “That is so awful. Did they ever find who killed her?”
“Oh yeah, Carlo Morandi, the asshole who then went on to kidnap Allegra last year. Long story. But he’s dead, thank God. Good riddance to bad rubbish. I’ll tell you the whole story some other time.”
I nod my head, watching as the taxi stops in front of the house. I pay the fare, following Luciana as she gets out of the car.
Once we’re standing on the sidewalk, she turns to me and looks up into my eyes. Hers carry fatigue in them, which breaks my heart after such a wonderful evening.
“Would you want to grab a bite with me somewhere? I’m starving.”
My stomach lets out a growl. “There’s your answer.”
She gives me a small smile, which sends my heart soaring because any smile she gives me does that to me. “Great,” she whispers. “Let’s go get our stuff. Maybe we’ll find a diner on First. I’d kill for a tuna melt and fries right now.”
We walk back into the house and up the rounded staircase to the room where we left our things before the concert started. Luciana takes some clothes out of her bag. “I can’t wait to get out of this dress.”
Just as she opens the door to go to the bathroom to change, clothes and purse in hand, loud voices begin to echo from the hallway. “What the fuck?” I hear her say under her breath.
I take a few steps toward her. “What is it?”
“Shh!” she hisses back at me. “Holy shit! It’s Davison and some blonde chick.” A few more shouts. “Oh my God, I think it’s Ashton!”
“Who is Ashton?”
“His ex.”
Without warning, Luciana pushes me back into the room, drops her bag to the floor, and starts to look for something frantically. When pulls out her phone, she curses. “Fuck. It’s dead.”
Suddenly, she rises up from the floor and her hands begin roaming over me, front to back, and then inside my jacket.
What the hell…
“Luciana, what are you doing?” I whisper back to her, rather demandingly, because as much as I would love this to happen under any other circumstances, what she was doing was not of a romantic nature.
“Give me your phone!” she hisses back at me under her breath. “We have to get this on video for Allegra!”
I take her insistent hands in mine and push them off me. “Woman, would you wait? I’ll get it.”
“Hurry up! And let me—”
I give her a slight nudge to the side. “My phone. I’ll tape it.”
“Fine! Just do it already!”
Luciana steps back so I can stand in front of her to get the perfect angle on my phone, aiming it at Davison and the blonde woman.
“I love you, Davis. We’re perfect together. You know we are. And I did it all by myself. Your father had nothing to do with it,” the blonde woman says to Davison.
Luciana gasps behind me. “Oh my God!” she whispers. “She’s the one who set up those videos! I’m gonna go kick her ass!”
I block her way out. “No, Luciana. Just wait,” I hiss back at her over my shoulder.
Davison shouts back at this Ashton woman, “Davison, Ashton! My name is Davison.” He pauses. “Oh my God, you hired some PI to investigate her, didn’t you?”
Ashton replies something, and then a sharp voice rings out. I watch as Davison’s mother steps into the hallway, calling the blonde woman a “bloody shrew” and a “little bitch.” Finally, she orders her to get her “skinny, bottle-blonde ass” out of her house.
The blonde then leaves but not before threatening Davison’s mother, who then tells the blonde that she’s the “one who’ll be sorry.”
I watch as Mrs. Berkeley steps closer to her son, but in a rage, he spins around and punches the wall, with his mother shouting his name.
Enough.
Luciana taps me on the arm. “Turn it off, Tomas. That’s enough. Leave him be.”
I turn off the video and ease back into the room, shoving the phone back inside my jacket pocket.
Luciana grabs my arms, shaking them, pure joy illuminating her eyes.
“Oh my God! Tomas, you’re amazing! We have to show this to Allegra when—”
I don’t even think. I pull Luciana’s face to mine and kiss her hard. I can’t hold back any longer. As desperate as I was to kiss her since I first met her, I just couldn’t for two reasons. I didn’t want to be like the other men she’d been with before who only wanted one thing from her. I wanted her to know that I liked being with her because of who she is as a person, that it was important to me to know her better before we moved onto something more serious.
But I also waited because I was so conflicted. There are times when I think I don’t deserve to be happy, and it won’t matter if things escalate between us because it will all fall apart in the end. Because of what happened back home, a dark cloud will always hover over me, reminding me that I indeed was happy once, married to my childhood sweetheart, but after the u
nexpected tragedy that tore us apart and should’ve made our relationship stronger, I turned into a coward and left everything behind because I was too selfish to deal with what happened properly, instead running away.
It takes her a second, but then she returns the kiss with her tongue. She tastes so delicious, so sweet. I don’t want to stop. Her lips are so soft and lush.
We finally do pull back, but only mere inches. I can feel her warm breath on my face.
Her eyes are soft and glazed over when she looks at me. “I can’t believe that’s what I’ve been missing all this time. I’m a fucking idiot.”
I laugh at her admission. Even though she puts up a strong front, I can see how vulnerable she is, which makes me want her all the more. “Yes, you are. It’s about time, I might add.”
She takes my hands into hers, looking down at them. “I was just scared, you know. All that stuff I told you in the cafeteria at school. It wasn’t bullshit.”
I kiss the top of her head, the scent of her shampoo that smells like wildflowers wafting up to my nose. “I know it wasn’t. Just like it wasn’t bullshit when I told you that I would remind you that you’re beautiful whenever I see you. I haven’t failed in that, have I?”
She smiles so sweetly at me. “No, you haven’t.”
Luciana untangles our hands, then takes my face between her palms and kisses me once more. I wrap my arms around her warm body, loving the feel of her curves under my hands.
This time when we pull apart, something inside me clenches and I look away, shutting my lips together firmly. Without warning, Luciana takes my face back in her hands, hard. She looks at me straight in the eyes, worry crossing her face. “Okay, Prague Boy, what’s wrong?”
My eyebrows narrow. I tilt my head at her. “What?”
“You tell me. I pulled away and you looked to the side, as if you couldn’t stand the sight of me. Like you’d rather be anywhere else but with me.”
Shit.
I didn’t mean it, my love.
What? My love?
No, it’s not love. It can’t be. Not yet. Just tell her. Tell her everything, then reassure her that you like her. That you want to be with her.
And then the coward returns.
I give her a wide grin. “How do you say, ‘news report’?”
“News flash?” she asks carefully.
I smile widely at her. “Yes, that’s it. News flash, Luciana. Nothing is wrong. Everything is right. I’m crazy about you, and I want to be with you. I hope you realize that.”
Her light blue eyes shine back at me with unshed tears. “I do. I just didn’t think I’d ever hear that from a guy.”
“Well, now you have. And I just hope you feel the same way about me.”
“I do, but now I need to do something else.”
“What?”
“Make up for lost time,” she replies before grabbing my head once more and slamming her lips over mine.
CHAPTER FOUR
Northern Italy
Present day
You did save the day that night, you know,” I inform Tomas.
“No argument there.”
“So modest.”
He shakes his head and grins. “How about the time we made love after my debut in Prague?”
“‘Made love?’ Honey, we…” I mouth “fucked” so the girls can’t hear…”each other’s brains out,” I remind him.
“I was being polite,” he counters.
“I know. Look at you blushing already. So cute.”
His face is rosy pink as he clears his throat, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt.
* * *
Lucy
The Estates Theatre
Prague, Czech Republic
Five years ago
Under the gilded ceiling of the Estates Theatre, Allegra sits to my left as we watch the final act of Don Giovanni. Tomas is playing a supporting role as Don Ottavio, the heroine’s fiancé. He is so amazing. I plan to make him speak to me later in that gorgeous language. It won’t matter if he asks me where the train station is in Italian. I need to hear that whispered softly in my ear.
True to their word, Davison and Allegra came to Prague for Tomas’s debut. They stopped in Paris first for a week to celebrate her being one of the winners in the Metropolitan Opera’s National Council Auditions. When they arrived, I gave them a tour of Prague, the same one that Tomas had given me. It’s a walkable city, and they only time we used public transportation was when we rode the tram up the hill to Prague Castle on the other side of the Vltava River away from the center of town.
Outfitted in a custom-made tux, Davison is seated on the other side of Allegra, his hand rubbing over the sparkling diamond ring on her finger. Allegra and I squealed like banshees when she showed it to me. I was so thrilled for my best friend. After everything she’s been through in her life, she deserves a little happiness.
The curtain finally falls on the final act. Thunderous applause echoes throughout the magnificent space. Along with Davison and Allegra, the entire audience rises to its feet.
When Tomas comes out for his solo bow, I give him a shout of “Bravo!” as well as a “Woohoo!” just so he knows it’s me, and I swear, he grins so widely because he heard it and he places his hand over heart to acknowledge me.
Allegra picks up her black cashmere shawl, and I watch as Davison helps her wrap it around her shoulders over her black ball gown.
“We’ll see you both at the reception?” she asks.
“Yup. I’m just going to go backstage to see Tomas so I can congratulate him privately.”
She raises her eyebrow at me as Davison places his hand on the small of her back, pushing her toward the aisle. “And that’s enough information, Luciana, thank you very much. Give Tomas our congratulations.”
“You got it, Money Boy.”
I smile wickedly when I hear Davison grunt in displeasure under his breath. Allegra grabs his other hand. “Come on, Harvard, let’s get some champagne,” Allegra tells him soothingly.
When she passes me, she mouths “Really?” and I just continue to grin.
I gather my own purse and head for the backstage area where Tomas has already introduced me to the security guard, but I learned how to say “I’m Tomas Novotny’s girlfriend” in Czech just in case there was a problem.
Luckily, the security guard remembers me and lets me through the door. I head for Tomas’s dressing room down the various passageways. When I get there, I see his dresser walking out with his costume to return it to the costume department. I give the older man a quick nod and step into the small room where he’s standing dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans.
“Hey you! You were—”
Before I can speak another word, Tomas has me pinned against the wall as he shoves the door closed with his foot. He stares at me for a long minute, his blue eyes illuminating like brilliant sapphires at me, and then slams his lips over mine.
Fuck, I want him now.
It doesn’t take me long to hop on board the sexy train. He sucks my tongue into his mouth, tangling mine with his. He moans so deeply and by now, I can identify them. He wants me. Badly. I can hear the need in them, the hunger.
But despite how much I want him at this moment, part of me holds back because of that look he gave me just before he kissed me. There are times when I’m with him that I can feel the distance between us, like he’s not giving himself to me completely. I know he’s keeping something from me, and every time I ask him what’s wrong or what he’s thinking about, he changes the subject or gives me some kind of vague answer. Like that fleeting glance just now. He stares at me like that a lot, as if he can’t believe he’s here with me, but simultaneously thinking that he doesn’t deserve to be. It’s as if we’re one step away from being closer than I had ever hoped for, and then just as quickly, pulls away just enough to worry me that we’ll never truly be as close as I want to be, knowing I’m truly his and he is mine.
The grip of his large hands as they g
rab my breasts interrupts my thoughts. He covers them wholly, kneading them hard. I moan from the pain, which only encourages him to push them into my chest, practically flattening them. He bends down and sucks one nipple into his mouth through the silken fabric of my dress. His moans grow louder, more primal as he switches to the other side, giving it the same attention that he afforded the other.
I know what he’s experiencing right now. It’s the adrenaline of opening night coursing through him—the applause, the excitement, the knowledge that he sang his ass off and did it without messing up. Plus all that applause…a singer’s ego tends to reach Everest-like heights when that shit happens.
He pulls back from my breast. Two round wet marks appear on my dress where he sucked me. He has marked me. He owns me. “I need to fuck you now, Luciana,” he whispers roughly.
And just like that, my pussy tightens, and I’m dying for him.
“Yes, please, baby,” I rasp as I start to undo the back of my dress.
But then he stops my hands. His eyes bore into me, molten with desire. “Not here.”
He grabs my hand and rushes me out the door. A bustle of activity moves outside in the hallway—dressers running around with wigs and costumes, champagne corks popping, raised voices and laughter bouncing off the walls. Others try to stop Tomas to wish him well on his debut, and he accepts each one graciously. But with each well-wisher, his hand grips mine tighter with frustration.
Prague Boy wants some, and I’m going to make sure he gets it.
I tug on his arm when another cast member stops him and lean into his warmth. “Honey, I’m really not feeling well,” I moan in feigned pain.
“Of course. Would you excuse us?”
He leads me away successfully from his castmate. “Well done, darling.”
“That’s nothing,” I scoff. “You should’ve seen me when I was a kid and faked a fever so I didn’t have to go to school.”
“Uh-huh,” Tomas mutters over his shoulder because I know he’s got other things on his mind.
We continue making our way down numerous hallways until we reach a side passage, encountering a few stagehands. Tomas looks back to see if they’re gone, and he ducks into the door the two men had just walked out of seconds before.
